


After All This Time, Or No Time At All

by jhanjones



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Crack, Episode: s03e05 A Life in the Day, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Missing Scene, mentions of other relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-31 19:14:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13981554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jhanjones/pseuds/jhanjones
Summary: Margo once called Quentin their Harry Potter.  What does Quentin have to say about that?  "Fillory and Further" may be his preferred fandom, but he is conversant in others.  Eliot doesn't like to admit he is a much of nerd as he really is.





	1. A Life In The Day

“So, we have to figure out the beauty of all life,” Eliot asked looking at the ten by ten square in front of him.

“Yeah,” Quentin said setting his bag down on the outside edge.

“Do you think we should just finish what that man started?” Eliot asked.

“That’s a good a place to start as any,” Quentin agreed.

The two men set to fill in the remaining spaces with the tiles the old man had yet to place. The two worked in comfortable silence for the surprising amount of time it took to fill in the blank spaces that were left. They held their breath as Eliot slipped the last tile into place.

Nothing happened.

“Damn it,” Eliot cursed.

“You can’t expect us to get it right the first time,” Quentin said running a dirty hand through his hair. “We need to see what we’re working with.”

The two men broke the pattern up placing the tiles in respective color stacks. Quentin pulled out a single subject notebook from his messenger bag, doing some quick calculations. “There are 784 tiles, in 15 colors. 784 factorial…”

“Seriously trying to calculate the beauty of all life?”

Eliot questioned.

“Well, just trying to see what we’re in for. There’s a finite number of solutions… Okay yeah, that’s a lot of zeroes.”

“Umm…How many zeroes?” Eliot asked looking away from the freshly organized tiles.

“To be exact?” Quentin squinted up into the daylight.

“Yeah,” Eliot asked expectantly.

“A shitload,” Quentin replied. “We have magic. We can use a spell to solve this. I just need…”

Eliot took a seat on the ladder off to the side of the puzzle, “Go for it. We have a Bambi to rescue.”

Quentin turned the page of his notebook starting the work. Eliot let him be instead looking inside the cabin and the surrounding clearing. It was small and forgotten, but also well used. Gods only knew how many people had come to try this puzzle in the time since it was created.

The sun was starting to set by the time they realized neither of them had eaten in hours. Quentin’s stomach growled loudly. Eliot found a few things that one of the other questors must have left only a few days before, some fruit, bread, and cheese to make a meal out of. He hoped they wouldn’t be here too long. Either way, they would have to get provisions. This would last them a few days at most. Even he couldn’t survive on nothing but his never-ending flask. 

They shared the bed awkwardly that first night. It was the first time they slept together since that night after the emotion bottles. They started out as far apart as possible, but by morning Quentin’s head ended up resting on Eliot’s chest.

Eliot slipped out from under his sleeping friend to start working on breakfast. The noise, or smell, must have woken the slumbering Quentin. He stumbled out of the room, rubbing at his eyes blearily.

“I think I have an idea what spells we need to use,” Quentin said as Eliot placed his breakfast in front of him. “I need to check the Circumstances though.”

“The Circumstances,” Eliot repeated.

“They’re not the same here as they are on Earth,” Quentin reminded his friend.

“I know,” Eliot sighed, “I’ll leave you to it, Harry.”

Quentin frowned, “Harry? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Eliot insisted. “It’s something Margo said. She called you our Harry Potter. Even without magic you would come up with a plan and make it work. Doesn’t matter what the problem is, we can count on you to figure it out.”

Quentin fought back a blush as he pushed a strand of hair behind his ear, “Thanks. But that’s more Hermione, really. Harry just sort of runs into things without really thinking.”

Eliot laughed, “Do you really want to go there, Q?”

The shorter man shook his head.

“Harry it is,” Eliot restated.

 

++++

 

Quentin stood on the edge of the mosaic, a pattern laid out to fill the space as he moved his fingers in the Popper’s once again. Eliot stood by watching, waiting for the tiles to start moving. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Yeah, they’re still not moving, Q.”

Quentin stepped back grabbing his notebook to check it once again. “Son of a…. Look, I checked. I checked the Circumstances. The Slavic is perfect. It should work. I don’t…”

“Unless,” Eliot paused, “magic doesn’t work on this.”

“Great, brought back to a time when magic exists except for the one thing we need it to,” Quentin fumed, his notebook hitting his leg.

“Okay. Okay,” Eliot tried to sooth. “We do it the old-fashioned way. We’re smart. We can do hard things.”

“This is an impossible thing, Eliot.” Quentin snapped.

Eliot held up his hands, “We have to show the beauty of all life.”

“The beauty of all life,” Quentin repeated with contempt. “What does that mean? How are we supposed to show it with tiles?”

“I don’t know. But we’re not going to show it with fucking math, Quentin.” Eliot yelled trying to be heard over his friend.

“This is the stupidest puzzle,” Quentin snapped as he threw down his notebook in defeat.

“No, no, no,” Eliot said leaning down the pick up the rejected papers.

Quentin turned back. “I just…”

“This is our quest,” Eliot reminded him, keeping his voice calm, no matter how frustrated he felt. “We have to do it ourselves.”

Quentin scoffed.

“I’m not saying that it isn’t going to take awhile,” He placed a hand between his friend’s shoulder blades softly guiding him back toward their task. “Logic this with me for one second, okay? Jane came along too late, right? Someone came to the mosaic and solved it before she even got here… gets here…will get here… You tried to convince me that someone was us?”

Quentin nodded reluctantly. “Yeah, but I didn’t think it would take us a decade.”

“In the absence of a better option lets at least try,” Eliot suggested. “Imagine what would have happened if Harry Potter had given up on his quest. What would the world have looked like then?”

“I’m still not Harry,” Quentin sighed, even if he understood his friend’s point.

 

++++

 

Eliot and Quentin sat on a quilt at the center of the mosaic, the center of their world for the last year. The night illuminated by half a dozen lit torches.

“Happy anniversary Q,” Eliot said raising his glass. “To our first and last year at this thing.” They tap glasses and drank deeply.

“Hey,” Quentin said turning back to his friend. Then their lips were crashing into one another. It was fast barely a peck. Quentin looked shy and almost smug. Eliot reached up placing his hand on the back of Quentin’s neck giving him a deep and proper kiss.

The next morning, they were back to working on the mosaic.

Quentin was uneasy, “Ummm, so,” he stammered.

“Yeah,” Eliot agreed. “Let’s just save our overthinking for the puzzle. Yeah?”

Quentin agreed and placed another tile in place. A few minutes later, Eliot broke the silence. “You know that Harry and them had to be getting it on in that tent.”

Quentin chuckled. “You think Harry banged Hermione?”

“With Ron out of the picture? Definitely,” Eliot agreed.

 

++++

 

“Papa, tell me a story,” Rupert begged.

Eliot pulled the blanket a little higher up the boy’s chest. “A story? What kind of story?”

“An Earth story,” Rupert replied instantly.

“An Earth story,” Eliot repeated. “Hmmm,” he hummed. He rubbed his stubbly chin in thought. “There was once a little boy named Harry. Because his aunt and uncle were so mean Harry lived in a cupboard under the stairs.”

“Where were his mom and dad?” Rupert asked. The frown on his face the exact same and Quentin’s when he couldn’t find the answer to his problem.

“They died, when he was a baby,” Eliot answered. He ran a hand over the child’s head soothing away the frown.

“Like my mom,” Rupert said sadly.

“Yes,” Eliot agreed and continued the story moving past the boy’s tragic beginnings. “But Harry wasn’t an ordinary baby. He was very special. He was a wizard.”

The child was fast asleep by the time Eliot got to Harry and the Dursleys hiding in the cabin on the rocks out in the sea. Eliot leaned forward and placed a kiss on the boy’s forehead. When Eliot looked up he saw Quentin leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom. He cocked his head to the side, “Harry Potter?”

"He wanted an Earth story. I wasn't going to tell him about growing up in Indiana," Eliot said by way of explanation.

Quentin smiled at him, “I thought you never finished the books?”

“I couldn’t make it past Sirius’ death,” Eliot replied with a shrug.

Quentin chuckled softly. “I guess I’ll have to tell him about the rest of Harry’s adventures then. At least with our quest, we don’t have to try and find bits of a dark wizard’s soul,” Quentin said as they retreated to their own bed.

“Indeed,” agreed Eliot, “Because spending a decade trying to solve an impossible puzzle is so much easier.”

“Yeah,” Quentin chuckled.

 

++++

 

“Why would Harry not marry Hermione,” Rupert asked his fathers almost out of the blue as they worked on the mosaic. Rupert sat at the table his homework stretched out before him.

Eliot and Quentin looked at one another.

“Excuse me,” Eliot managed after a moment.

“Why would Harry marry Ginny,” the boy clarified. “Hermione was too good for Ron. She wouldn’t have been happy with him overall.” Despite the fact he has never read the books Rupert had strongly held opinions about the Harry Potter stories. They had become his favorite after Eliot started telling him about them one night before bed.

“Uhh…” Quentin managed.

“She wanted to see the characters together. And like in life, you sometimes end up with somebody you think you are supposed to, but they really aren’t your best match.” Eliot explained taking a sip of water with the goard cup.

“That’s stupid,” the boy concluded before walking back into the house.

“This is all your fault,” Quentin mumbled in Eliot’s direction.

“He’s your son,” Eliot objected.

“Exactly,” Quentin agrees before kissing the other man. “You couldn’t have told him the Fillory stories? I know more about those. And what was that about ending up with people we shouldn’t be with? Do you think he’s going to think you mean us?”

“There’s no magic in those if you live here,” Eliot protested. “And of course, he’s not going to think it’s us, Q. If anything, we’re Harry and Hermione. You and Alice on the other hand...”

Quentin laughed and shook his head, “Whatever Eliot.”

 

++++

 

Quentin fell to the floor the letter from his past-self still in his hand. Eliot sat beside him overcome with the strange sense of déjà vu. The memories of another life pouring over them. How could they possibly remember that? It hadn’t happened. Margo had stopped the timeline. But…

“I got so old,” Eliot said.

“You died,” Quentin said dumbfounded.

“I died,” Eliot repeated. “You have a wife.” He paused, “And we had a family.”

“How? How?” Quentin stammered. “How do we remember that?”

“I don’t know,” Eliot said almost laughing.

“What about all that time? What does it mean?” Quentin tried not even sure what he was asking.

“I don’t know,” Eliot said again. “But You know… Always.”

Quentin looked speechlessly at the man sitting across from him, too overwhelmed to say anything.


	2. Will You Play With Me?

“So do we think the knight chick is still in there?” Margo asked.  
  
“It's God magic so anything is possible. We have no idea what could be in there.”  
  
Quentin sat silently listening to the debate with Penny23 the merits of him traveling into the castle ahead of them. Quentin listened as the wheels turned over again and again in his brain.  
  
The quest demanded a sacrifice. He knew that. The knight had been there for centuries she must know a way into the castle. Whatever price had to be paid, he knew he was strong enough now, thanks to the quest. He felt Eliot's eyes follow him out of the room. He didn't know what the other man could possibly have to say, he kept going, not giving him a chance to say it.  
  
Quentin sat on the floor of his room channeling the one hit of magic into the spell, searching for the knight.  
  
The young woman was startled, maybe even a bit scared as he appeared in her mind. The initial shock of him appearing in her mind and possession of magic wore off, she knew why he must be there.  
  
Quentin was relieved to hear the knight, Ora, did know another way into the castle and would let them in. She could not leave her charge unattended. Quentin respected her dedication, even he totally did not understand it. His plan in place he found the others where he left them, fighting over how to proceed to the castle.  
  
“Julia gave you a hit of magic, and you did what? Incepted the knight in the castle.  That magic was for killing a monster.  Why waste it on chatting with the help?” Margo demanded.  
  
“When Calypso told us that Ora was there on her own accord, I I figured she must know more than one way in and out of the castle, and she does, and she's going to open it for us.”  
  
“In exchange for all you have to do is get in, turn the key, and get out fast,” Quentin explained.  
  
“Um, what about the monster?” Margo asked.  
  
“Ora will take care of the monster,” Quentin reassured.  
  
“What about you?” Alice asked from her corner tucked away from the main conversation. She didn't like the way he was phrasing this plan.  
  
“I stay in the castle. It's a fair deal.  She's been there for centuries, and she's tired, and I'm I'm strong enough, thanks to the quest, so I'm the new jailor.”  
  
Alice hopped out of her seat approaching, “This isn't the solution.”  
  
“I second that,” Eliot stumbled almost lost for words.  
  
Quentin's face contorted in determined resolve. “Alice, who's the one that died for us? You were willing to stay in Fillory for forever.  How is this different? Someone has to step up.”  
  
“Quick alternative pitch: take the gun with the god-killing bullet and shoot the fucking monster in the face,” Margo said over the rim of her glass.  
  
“Second, second that, yes,” Eliot agreed wholeheartedly.  There was an edge of what might be called panic in his voice at the prospect of Quentin staying.  
  
“No. I promised, no clever stuff.” Quentin insisted. “Look, this monster, it's not a joke.  We cannot let it escape, and the only way to make sure that it doesn't is to do this the hard way.  The quest taught us that it's like that sometimes.”  
  
“I don't like this,” Eliot said taking in Quentin's firm words. After fifty years he had learned to recognize a losing battle with the other man.  
  
“Me neither,” Quentin admitted, “but I'm going to do it.” He retreated upstairs a short time later, not waiting to hear any more pleas to reconsider or suggestions of new plans.  
  
Eliot drank and listened to the pleas knowing they would not work, but hoping by some miracle they would. The night grew late and everyone had retreated upstairs but the high king and former high king of Fillory.  
  
“We can't let him do it, Margo!” Eliot demanded, derailing their previous conversation. His hand was wrapped around the neck of a bottle of cheap scotch. they had run out of good stuff hours ago.  
  
“We’re not going to let him,” Margo said taking the bottle away. “Your boy has a thing for saving people. You know that. We just need to save him from himself.”  
  
Eliot collapsed into a puddle. “He really is Harry fucking Potter.”  
  
Margo laughed, “I thought you never finished the books.”  
  
“I read them when we came back,” Eliot said pushing the hair away from his face. He wiped his eyes with the cuff of his shirt, the tears staining the teal silk. “I needed to after…”  
  
“After,” Margo prompted. She had noticed the shift in the men's relationship, but neither if the idiot would explain what happened to her.  
  
“I… I need to be able to make up for my mistake,” Eliot said wiping away more tears. “It was worse than Snape’s worst memory.”  
  
Margo crouched down in front of him. “What the fuck are you talking about Eliot?”  
  
“He… He wanted to give it a shot… We had fifty years of proof... I told him it was just the emotion… I was too scared…” Eliot rambled.  
  
“Fifty years of proof? You're not making any sense, El. What's this got to do with Harry Potter?” Margo said trying to follow his drunken disconnected thoughts.  
  
“I had my shot. I'm like Snape turning Lily down,” Eliot told her, tears streaming out of his amber eyes unchecked. “I can't let him go. He's my always.”  
  
“I think you've had enough,  El.” She got him to his feet and poured him into bed. She would get him to explain that all in the morning.  
  
Eliot threw an arm over his eyes. The early morning light burning. His head felt like it was an egg being cracked in two, his back aching from the awkward position he slept. His clothes were wrinkled and there was a tiny wet spot on his chest were Margo's head rested, a slim stream of drool escaping. She must be having a good dream. He summoned the glass of water from the nightstand with his telekinesis, lifting his head enough to sip in but not enough to dislodge his bedmate.  
  
“Umber’s hairy ass my head is killing me,” Margo grumbled as she stirred awake some twenty minutes later.  
  
“I think you've been spending too much time with my wife,” Eliot teased.  
  
Margo sat up pulling her camisole back into place, “Someone had to. Gods know it wasn't going to be you.”  
  
Eliot took another sip of water instead of speaking.  
  
Margo leaned over and stole the glass. “You want to explain what the Hell you were blathering on about like a heartbroken prepubescent cheerleader?”  
  
Eliot sank back again the headrest, “Not really.”  
  
“Not acceptable. Start talking asshole,” Margo ordered.  
  
Eliot stalled instead. He leaned over and rummaged through her nightstand drawer to find a forgotten pack of cigarettes. He placed one of the thin paper tubes between his lips, lighting it with a snap of his fingers. He inhaled grimacing at the staleness of the smoke. It had been ages since he had a proper cigarette and this didn't even count.  
  
“Come on fucker, we don't have all day. We're leaving after lunch,” Margo urged. “What was all the nerd boy nonsense. Worse than Snape? You started hating little kids because they look like their dads?”  
  
Eliot took another long drag before handing over the cigarette. “Not that. Snape's worst memory,” he corrected, “by the lake.”  
  
“Where he got pants in front of the whole school? Q isn't one to string people up and show off their junk,” Margo said stealing the cigarette.  
  
“At least not without their consent,” Eliot agreed. “That wasn't the worst memory though.”  
  
“You mean the thing actually important thing, where Snape called Lily a Mudblood?” Margo asked in clarification. “That wasn't in the movies. You really did read the books.”  
  
Eliot nodded watching her blow a smoke ring.  
  
“What could you do to Q to compare to that? We call him a nerd all the time.” Margo said with a shrug.  
  
“No Bambi. This..  this was something else. The idiot wants to give himself over the be the new jailer. I can't lose him to that. Not more than I have already,” Eliot said taking the cigarette back.  
  
“You're still not making any sense,” Margo told him.  
  
“When we were living our lives, in the other timeline we used to speak in code. We used Harry Potter,” Eliot began.  
  
“Pretty fucking hard when you hadn't finished the books,” Margo teased.  
  
Eliot rolled his eyes, “I didn't need to when I had Q to tell me the stories. Well, our personal Harry Potter is about ready to take his walk into the woods to face You-Know-Who.”  
  
“And he’s not going to get a trip back from a very special version of Kings Cross,” Margo concluded.  
  
“I can't lose him,” Eliot said once again.  
  
“What did you do El,” Margo said. She would get him to explain what the Hell he meant by that.  
  
“Q took a shot. And I…” Eliot drifted off.  
  
“You lashed out just like Snape,” Margo said with a shake of her head. “Idiot.”  
  
“You two better not be having sex in there,” Josh said banging door. “Lunch will be served on the boat. Get your asses moving.”  
  
Eliot took the last draw on the cigarette and snuffed it out into a tiny glass dish that normally held earrings or other jewelry as Margo slept.  
  
“Time to go and save Harry from himself,” Margo said patting Eliot on the chest. She grabbed the gun out of her nightstand drawer.  
  


+++++  
  


Quentin sat beside Alice, their thighs almost touching as she told him of her plans. He would never see here after the quarters left Castle Blackspire. He would be left alone with the monster and his memories. It was amazing that he would be the only one (other than Fogg) to know what happened to her.  
  
“You're the only one I had to tell. I know, I don't say and it and that it doesn't always seem like it, but you're the one that I love, Q.” She leaned in pressing her lips to his. He stayed still, goodbye or not he could not lie to her. She was a part of his past and he would always care for her, but he didn't love her and he wasn't going to tell her that he did.  
  
“Alice doing her impression of the Marauders walking into the woods with Harry yo face off with You-Know-Who?” Eliot asked leaning against the door jam of the cabin.  
  
Quentin's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. “What?” They had used Harry Potter as a reference for emotions or when they didn't want someone to understand their conversation so many times in their lives at the mosaic, but not since they had returned. Not after Eliot shot him down.  
  
“You know with the Resurrection Stone,” Eliot said turning over an invisible stone over in his hand three times.  
  
Quentin couldn't help his lips quirking upward at this small gesture. He didn't remember exactly how or when it had started, but every time the two discussed the stone, Eliot made the gesture. Quentin shook his head, “It was like something out of a different more dystopian young adult series.”  
  
Eliot raised one brow in an unraised question, hoping to spur the smaller magician to continue speaking.  
  
“It's not my story to tell,” Quentin said shutting him off.  
  
“Ahh, there are tacos waiting in the captain's study if you're interested,” Eliot said standing up straight once more. He began to walk away.  
  
“Hey El,” Quentin called back.  
  
Eliot turned around silently taking in the smaller man.  
  
“Alice wouldn't be the one walking with me to face my fate,” Quentin told him.  
  
“Well, of course, she isn't dead...anymore,” Eliot agreed.  
  
“Even if she was…” Quentin said softly. “Rupert, Arielle…. You… You three are my heart and would be the ones to walk with me until the very end. It's the memories of you three that have made me strong enough to do this now. You're my always.”  
  
Eliot pulled the smaller man into a bone-crushing hug. He couldn't leave this man to his fate, the noble idiot.  
  
“El,” Quentin said a hand coming up to Eliot's chest, “Can't breathe.”  
  
Eliot placed a kiss on top of Quentin's hair, “Thank you Q.”  
  
“For what,” Quentin said turning so their eyes could meet.  
  
“For being you,” Eliot said squeezing him once again.  
  
Quentin sank further into his embrace.  
  


+++++  
  


Eliot let his head fall back onto the top of the chair. The world outside had gone dark except for the as the crossed to the underside of Fillory.  
  
“Eliot! No!” Quentin said running out trying to block the shot.  
  
The monster collapsed into a heap on the floor. The knight leaning over the body.  
  
“How!” she asked still crouched over her dead charge.  
  
“Fuck Eliot. What are you doing?”  
  
“God killing bullet. I'm saving my friend what turns out to be a not so scary monster,” Eliot said looking down at him.  
  
“Eliot! No! - Fuck, Eliot!”  
  
“How?”  
  
“God-killing bullet.”  
  
“This is not what we agreed on.”  
  
“I didn't actually agree on anything, but I did decide that one of my best friends wouldn't spend the rest of his life locked in a prison, guarding what turns out to be a really not-so-scary monster.”  
  
“I think you've spent too much time as a king,” Quentin grumbled.  
  
Eliot squeezed his shoulder as the two walked back to join the others. “Well, that's not really a problem anymore, is it?”  
  
Quentin tensed under the touch.    
  
“Ron and Hermione didn’t let Harry go through the trapdoor alone.  You think I was going to leave you with a monster for the rest of eternity.” Eliot said giving his shoulder another squeeze.  
  
“You don’t get to do that now,” Quentin said slipping from his grasp.    
  


+++++  
  


“I have made an agreement with the Order to ensure your safety and protection from the  McAllistairs,” Fogg told the assembled Questers.  
  
“Yeah, what’s that,” Margo demanded.  “I’ve got a kingdom to rule.”  
  
“You won’t be going back to Fillory, Ms. Hanson,” Fogg said, “none of you will.”  
  
“What the actual fuck!” Margo demanded.    
  
“In order to ensure your continued safety you are going to wipe your memories and give you new personalities,” Fogg explained.  
  
“We're all getting turned into Gilderoy Lockhart,” Josh whined.  
  
“I assure you, that will not be the case, Mr. Hoberman.  You will have full and successful lives,” Fogg corrected.  
  
“And if we don’t, it’s not like we’ll remember what you stole,” Kady grumbled.       
  
“The potion will take around 24 hours to go into effect.  You may use this time to say your goodbyes,” Fogg informed them.  said and left the hospital wing the  
  
“Where’s Alice,” Quentin asked curiously.  
  
Quentin laid down into a ball, his back turned away from the crowd.  
  
“Ms. Quinn’s fate is out of my hands.  I’m sorry, Mr. Coldwater,”  Fogg left them there in the hospital wing.    
  
“This sucks,” Josh said as stared up at the ceiling.  “We get all of magic back and what thanks do we get? Banished to the Muggle world without so much as a thank you.  At least the Golden Trio got Chocolate Frog cards.”  
  
“Shut the fuck up,” Kady ordered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the first fic I ever wrote in this fandom. For the one year anniversary, I thought I might add a little more. 
> 
> Hope all enjoyed the fic, comments and kudos welcome.


	3. Escape From the Happy Place

Eliot sat back staring lost at the chalkboard before them. He had no idea which memory they should try next. What couple possibly hold his door. He could feel his time running out. He had to get word to his friends and soon. “Mm, I never asked.  When you found your door, um… what memory was it?  
   
“The day that I left home,” Charlton said shifting on the sofa. He grimaced as he pulled his injured side.  
  
“That's it?” Eliot asked a bit surprised. “That's your most traumatic memory?”  
  
“Yes. Because I left. Home.” Charleton was mildly offended that.     
  
“But it was when you were confronted with what you fear most.” Eliot thought out loud.    
  
“Great.  So just figure out what that is and I'll make a distraction, and then and then you can go there,” the remembrance Quentin offered from his place in front of the chalkboard.    
  
“I know you're just a memory, but you're a very generous one,” Eliot said with a sad smile.  
  
“Well, you sacrifice for people you love.  Like Harry walking into the woods.  His love saved the school.” remembrance Quentin said looking up at him.  
  
“Oh, shit.  I get it.  Q, I'm gonna take you up on that.  Lead the creatures to my puberty.  Go bravely.” Eliot ordered as he wiped a bit of chalk dust off the smaller man’s chin.  “Okay.  I know where I need to go,” he said turning to Charleton.  
  
The scene changed and the two were standing in the throne room of Castle Whitespire. Remembrance Eliot and Quentin sat under a wedding arch, a letter held loosely between Quentin’s fingers.  Eliot held a half-eaten peach in his own.  “Charleton, welcome to my real life Dementor moment.”  
   
“Did it happen?” Eliot asked the juice of the peach stick on his hand.  
  
“Fifty years.” Quentin breathed.  
  
“It happened,” Eliot decided out loud.  
  
“It was sort of beautiful,” Quentin said lost in the miracle of the memories.  
  
“It really was.” Eliot agreed.  
  
Quentin looked at him, for once not hiding behind his hair as he spoke. “I know this sounds dumb but us. We...You know, think about it.  Like, we-we work.  And we know it 'cause we've lived it.  Who gets that kind of proof of concept?”  
  
Eliot’s lips quirked up.  Quentin proving to him once again who he was. “We were just injected with  a half-century of emotion,  so I get that maybe you're not thinking clearly.”  He said hiding the panic in his voice with wryness.     
  
Quentin wouldn’t let it go. “No,” he said, “I'm just saying, what if we gave it a shot?  I mean, would that be that crazy? Why the fuck not?” His honest  
  
“I I know you and you aren't…” Eliot stumbled.  
  
Quentin interjected.  “What's it matter?  
  
“Don't be naive.” Eliot condemned.  “It matters. Q, come on.  I love you, but you have to know that that's not me and that's definitely not you, not when not when we have a choice.”  
   
Eliot talked to his past self, his stomach turning in disgust at his past actions.  “Someone good and true loves you. And he went out on a limb.  And, yeah, it was a little crazy, but you knew.  You knew this was a moment that truly mattered and you just snuffed it out.  Q, I'm sorry.  I was afraid.  And when I'm afraid, I run away.  If I ever get out of here, Q, know that when I'm braver it's 'cause I learned it from you. Quentin.” He slipped his hand behind the smaller man’s head and drew him in for a deep kiss.  A door appeared above Quentin’s left shoulder, the door to their cabin by the mosaic.  Eliot rose and walked out it.    
  


+++++  
  


Eliot blinked at the bright sunlight of the park, seeing through his own eyes for the first time in an unknown amount of time.  A grin spread wide across his features as he saw Quentin stand before him.  “Q.  Q.” He laughed, excited.  “It's me.  It's Eliot.”  
  
“Okay, no games, come on. Let's just go,” Quentin beckoned him closer.    
  
“It's Eliot.” The taller man said coming closer, even though he could tell Quentin didn’t believe him.    
  
“No, bullshit. Come on,” Quentin said drawing him in.  
  
“Fifty years. Who gets proof of concept like that?” Eliot said his voice full of pleading for the man he loved to realize it was him.    
  
“What?” Quentin said realization dawning on his stunned features.    
  
“Peaches and plums, motherfucker.  I'm alive in here.” Eliot said shoving his shoulder to drive his point home. “Always, Q.”  
  
“Eliot.” Quentin cried as he tackled the lanky magician and Alice covered his bag was saturated with dark blood.    
  


+++++  
  


Eliot was shoved once more into the small corner of his mind that made up the Happy Place.  
  
Charlton sat on the sofa in the living room.  “Did it work?”  
  
“I hope so.” Eliot said collapsing to rest against the door to the cottage, “I hope so.”  
  
“Eliot's alive,” Quentin informed Julia and Alice.  
  
“Are you sure?” Alice asked.  
  
“Yeah, he…” Quentin looked at Julia.  
  
“What he said… There's  no way the monster could know that?” Julia questioned.  
  
Quentin nodded, “Not those words. It’s him.”  
  


+++++  
  
  


“Peaches and plums,” Julia asked flopping onto Quentin's bed beside him.  
  
“My wife used to sell peaches and plums. That's how we met and it was our first memory from that timeline.” Quentin said with a shrug.  
  
“Your wife? You had a wife. That's still so weird to think,” Julia said with a sad smile.  
  
“And a son. It was a good life, Jules.” Quentin placed his book on the nightstand.  
  
Julia caught sight of the title, “Harry Potter? ”  
  
Quentin's lips quirked up, “He always liked the ‘Always,’ bit.”  
  
“Eliot? What he's your Snape? Can't have been in the creepy stalker way.” Julia teased.  
  
“No. I never really asked him why he liked that part so much. It’s not very Eliot.” Quentin admitted.  
  
“Well, maybe it is  Everything Snape did was out of his love for Lily. He spent a lifetime solving an impossible puzzle to save you and Margo.” Julia suggested.  
  
“It was to bring back magic,” Quentin corrected.  
  
“Fine. He was willing to stay in Fillory for the rest of his life to save you,” Before Quentin could speak Julia added, “I hope he treated your son better than Snape did Harry.” Julia asked looking at him.  
  
Quentin nodded, “He was. He was a fantastic dad to _our_ son. He was so scared when Arielle told us. I...I couldn't have done it without him. Especially after we lost Arielle. I was a total mess.” He took a deep breath. “I miss him so much.”  
  
“I know, Q. We'll get him back,” Julia reassured as she placed a kiss on his cheek.  
  


 

+++++  Epilogue +++++  
  


 

The Monster was gone. Quentin and Eliot had escaped to Quentin's old room in the Physical Kids’ Cottage. It should have been harder for them to pick up where they left off at the mosaic but the last year had taught them to seize every moment.  
  
They had lost hours rediscovering one another. The two lay curled up together Eliot's back resting against the headboard.  
  
“I feel like I owe this to you,” Eliot said playing with a lock of Quentin's hair as the owner rested his head on Eliot's chest.  
  
“Owe me what,” Quentin said turning to look up at him.  
  
“To let you know that you are my real life Dementor,” Eliot said grinning.  
  
“What!” Quentin demanded, shooting up from the bed to look down at the taller man.  
  
“Yep,” Eliot confirmed, “You, Quentin Coldwater are my greatest fear.”  
  
Quentin sat back on his haunches waiting for Eliot to explain. Eliot grinned up at him in return.  
  
“You did seem so scared of me when I was sucking you off a few minutes ago,” Quentin teased.  
  
“Oh no,” Eliot agreed. “That's when you're the least scary. The Dementor you is far, far scarier.”  
  
Quentin cocked his head to the side in question. Eliot sat up and pushed the hair out of Quentin's eyes. “Scarier than your dad?  He has to be pretty scarier if you fed him to cannibals.”  
  
“An illusion of him,” Eliot corrected, “And yes, far more terrifying.  You remember when we came back from the alternate timeline?” Eliot asked.  
  
“Obviously. That's why you're sitting here now,” Quentin said, his mouth turned down in confusion.  
  
“That. That moment when I was such an idiot. That's my greatest trauma. That's where the door to escape my Happy Place was.” Eliot explained.  
  
“That's not how Dementors work,” Quentin teased. “They show you your greatest fear, not your worst memory.”  
  
“I was such a fucking idiot.  Breaking your heart again is my greatest fear, Q.” Eliot leaned over and kissed him. “You're my always. Marry me, Q.”  
  
“Always,” Quentin agreed.  
  
“You two are such fucking nerds,” Margo said from the doorway.  
  
“Margo! What the Hell!” Quentin yelled.  He pulled the blanket over his lower half.    
  
Eliot fell back laughing.  “It’s not like she hasn’t seen it before, Q.”  
  
Quentin glared at him in before turning his angry expression to the intruder.  “Haven’t you heard of knocking?”  
  
“You’re about to be the husband of the king.  You better get used to people walking on you,” Margo told him.  
  
“I was already a king,” Quentin protest.  
  
“Were you though,” Margo asked.  “For such a fanboy you were only there for a hot minute.”  
  
Eliot pulled his fiancee down to lay beside him.  “Ignore her, Q.  She’s just jealous.” He placed a kiss in his hair.  “Was there something you needed, Bambi?”  
  
Margo sat herself at the end of the huge feather bed. “No, just wanted to see if you two dumbasses had figured your shit out.”  
  
“We’re all good here,” Eliot reassured.  His hand ran up Quentin’s back to the nape of his neck where he played with the undercut was starting to grow out.  Quentin shivered closer into his embrace.    
  
“Good,” Margo said, rising once more.  She made her way across the room.  “Just so you two idiots realize.  Lily and James were literally soulmates.  That’s why their Patronuses matched,” she teased.  
  
“Get out,” Quentin ordered throwing a pillow at her head.    
  
The sound of her laughter could be heard all the way down the hallway.        
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this didn't ruin the fic for anyone. I've had an idea how to add to this fic for a couple months. It wasn't until "Escape From the Happy Place" and a certain scene really got me moving. 
> 
> Comments and kudos welcome! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time working in this fandom. The line about Harry Potter has been bugging me since the season premiere aired and this is the result. I hope you guys liked it, or at least didn't hate it. Thanks so much for your time reading this story. Comments welcome.


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